But Not You
by minakoS
Summary: Justine did it for the pleasure. Jigsaw did it to teach her a lesson. (Potential story ahead)
1. Not anymore

**Don't think I'll do much with this. Just want to try out creating a Jigsaw trap.**

Justine lowly moaned as she felt an ear splitting headache come on. She slumped forward in her chair before shrieking in pain. Metal dug into her neck.

"What the fuck!" The metal was actually a clamp tightly secured around her neck. A number lock held the clamp together and she could hear the gentle whir of a machine behind her. _Dear God what's going on?_

To her left, a TV crackled to life. Justine jumped, startled. The face of an eerie puppet appeared next to a mannequin head. It too had the same device she had.

"Hello, Justine. I want to play a game. You see, I've been watching you for a while now and have concluded you need to be taught a valuable lesson. I know you've taken up a nasty habit of auto-erotic asphyxiation, getting pleasure from a brush with death. Now you we'll see how fun death really is. The combination to the lock lies behind your profession. You have 5 minutes or else the clamp with close into your neck, suffocating you until you die from lack of oxygen."

"W-what? No, this has to be-" The TV displayed a timer, counting down.

Four minutes and 59 seconds. Four minutes and 58 seconds. Four minutes and 57 seconds.

_Holy shit this is scary. I'm gonna die! Who is-How did-Argh! _She got up and looked around. It was within her profession? What the hell did that mean? . Except...wait. Her profession was a dental assistant.

"Behind your profession...dental receptionist...dental!" Her teeth! So behind her teeth was the combo. Now if only she could find a mirror...Justine's current location was a dark room, illuminated by a single hanging light bulb. From what she could tell, multiple pipes lined the walls. A small table stood to her right with some objects. '_Great! Where's that mirror...' _

There were no mirrors.

Just a scalpel, a brick and a drawing indicating which teeth were numbered.

The young noir haired woman of Grecian decent sighed. Her fixation with auto-erotic asphyxiation started when she was about 14. She had been masturbating when she had an asthma attack. Ever since that fateful day, she had gone through various lengths to relive the pleasure.

I mean, of course she appreciated life! Everyday she was thankful for not being raped, mugged or drugged. Well, at least until right now. Now she felt unfortunate and angry. Who the fuck was this creep doing this?

Four minutes and 23 seconds. Four minutes and 22 seconds.

She picked up the paper to inspect the drawing. It was a badly drawn picture, clearly scribbled to get a simple point across. That with the brick and scalpel she had to-

"No. You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Have you ever seen Castaway? You know where this is going, then.

Four minutes and 2 seconds. Four minutes and 1 second.

Shakily, she brought up the scalpel to her mouth. The numbers were behind 2 molars, 1 cuspid and 1 incisor. First, the incisor. It was on the upper row of teeth to the left.

_You can do this, Justine. One...two...three! _Pain rippled throughout her head and she collapsed to the ground.

Three minutes and 34 seconds. Three minutes and 33 seconds.

Justine feebly got back up. Dots danced around in her vision, corresponding to the pangs of pain shooting through her. The tooth wasn't even out yet.

Three minutes and 25 seconds.

Good. The incisor was out. Now it was time for the cuspid. If only the blood didn't make everything slippery. _One...two... _Blood squirted onto the table as she frantically pulled the tooth from the socket. It dropped down next to the other tooth.

Two minutes and 50 seconds. Two minutes and 49 seconds.

"Ngg," Justine moaned, clutching her head. Her tongue kept running over the gaps in her gums. We all have a tendency to do that. True to the puppet's words, numbers were painted behind the teeth. It took some rubbing on her shirt to reveal them, though. Her fingers make haste to try the code out. Then it dawned on her, just as the lock refused to open. She had no idea what order the numbers needed to be in. So that meant she needed to try out about 16 different combinations. There wasn't any time to do that!

Two minutes and 13 seconds. Two minutes and 12 seconds.

Time to try combination 6. The order of the numbers were: 4081. Her energy was drained, depleted. Justine's fingers sluggishly moved to turn the dials on the lock. Maybe death wasn't so bad.

"You happy?" She asked aloud to no one. "I'm done. Just like you wanted, right?" She feebly turned to look at the TV. "I give up. Done! So I choke myself when I get off. So what! Just end my god damn suffering now..."

One minute and 10 seconds. One minute and 9 seconds.

Combination 8. Why was she still trying? Death would put her out of her misery.

Thirty seconds. Twenty-nine seconds. Twenty-eight seconds.

Justine laid on the ground, spent. Her hand rested on the lock, idle. She closed her eyes, waiting for the timer to go off.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Her thumb pressed the release button on the lock as a last hope and it let the clamp swing open. The noise awoke the headache and she rolled over. Her hands were now pressed on her ears.

One.

The clamp swung back shut. If only she had stayed in the same spot...

Everything was blurry. Her eyes played butterfly and fluttered. Blood continued to leak out of her mouth in a steady, saliva coated mess. Her body was hunched in a fetal position.

Creaking. Creaking sounded after a minute. Justine looked up in alarm. She wanted to scoot back, but her body wasn't responding. It was that puppet again on a tricycle. What the actual fuck. The wheels creaked and slowly the tricycle pulled up to her. She shook, terrified about what would happen.

"Looks like you really do appreciate life, Justine," the puppet said. "Some people are just so ungrateful for the life that they have. But not you. Not any more."

**Constructive criticism is appreciated.**


	2. Chokey Chick

**Last chapter was revised if you haven't noticed. Just pointing that out. Still undecided as to what to do with this.**

Justine smoothed her skirt down. Just a few paces away was her old high school crush, Adam Radford (it's Radford according to a Saw writer). '_Should I say something? No, no I couldn't...aw, go on!' _She gently tapped his shoulder. He jumped a little before turning to her.

"Can I help you?" He asked, cocking a brow. '_Oh, God, there he goes...'_

"Hey, uh, remember me? We went to high school..."

"Nope."

"Uh..." She really didn't want to say it. "Chokey...chick." The realization dawned on Adam's face. "Right! I remember now. But those assholes were joking, right?" Justine looked down.

"Yeah, sure. If that's what you're comfortable believing in."

**Flashback: 9 years ago**

Justine grinned, watching as her surroundings became blurry. Behind the bleachers was the perfect spot to do this. Her fingers were magic and her left hand was playing God with her neck. No sounds were emitted to alert classmates of her current situation.

She was so close, just another second...

RATTLE.

Justine had never jumped up so quickly in her life. She tucked to her hands behind her back and looked around. A boy came stumbling towards her.

"Damn rocks..." The boy looked up at her. Justine's heart stopped. She had almost been caught by Senior Adam Radford. The guy who made her knees shake and her friends say, "You could do better."

"What are you doing back here?" He asked, pulling out a cigarette. She swallowed. What to say, what to say?

"Nothing really. You?" Adam motioned to his cancer stick.

"I don't think I've seen you before. Got a name?"

"Yeah, and it's Justine. I'm a sophmore."

"Ah." Adam took a drag and let the smoke slowly bellow out his nose. Justine watched, fascinated. Adam turned to her again and noticed bruises along her neck.

"You don't look like the kind of girl that's into bondage. What's up with your neck?"

"Oh these? I, uh, just woke up with them." He frowned, clearly not buying it.

"You know, the next time you wake up with them, you should tell the police. Your 'bed' is a real prick." Adam tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

It was about a week after that that Justine was caught. Same time, same place, different guy. And oh God did high school turn into a nightmare. 'Chokey Chick' graduated with a heavy weight on her shoulders.

**End Flashback**

"So you were your own bed...huh," Adam muttered. Justine blushed.

"What have you been up to?" She asked, changing the subject. He shook his head, motioning to his camera around his neck.

"You?" Her tongue ran across her new dentures. Images of a certain puppet crossed her mind.

"Not a lot. I'm just a dental receptionist now, nothing special." Justine bit her lip, wondering what to do next. "I was actually on my way to lunch. I dunno if you want to join me..."

"I'm fine with that." She smiled, happy. They turned and did more catching up. Adam had his own secrets, she noticed. He was very reluctant to say anything beyond photography. But it was all understandable. They also discussed Leslie, his last girlfriend who was apparently a vegan-feminist-punk. Adam had been the 'angry' one, which Justine failed to see.

Lunch was good, and they agreed to meet up again later for dinner.

Justine smiled, filing papers away into a cabinet. "Today was good. I can't wait till later..."

"Talking to yourself, huh?" She quickly turned only to frown in disgust. Amanda stood there, smirking. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"None of your fucking business. What do you want?"

"John wants to know your stance on his generous offer." It made Justine sick to her stomach that Jigsaw himself wanted her as an apprentice. To drive people to their deaths just to prove a petty lesson. She didn't dare say this aloud, though, because landing in a trap again didn't sound great.

"I'm still thinking about it. Tell your 'daddy' I said that." Amanda glared at her before leaving the dental clinic.


End file.
